Letters From War
by Gadien Elf
Summary: AU: A single event can change everything.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: So that LAST thing I needed was to start a new fic. I know...I know. But...I've seriously had this idea for like two months, and it won't go away!!

This fic is COMPLETELY AU! I have a song on my phone that I've had forever (the song...not the phone [DROID DOES!!]), and it's always coming up on my random when I'm on my way home. It's called "Letters From War" by Mark Shultz.

It's a very heartwarming and heartwrenching song, and for some reason it inspired me to start another fic. *sigh*

We'll see how fast I can update...I'm under the "thumb" at work, as it were. It's more like a foot up my ass though, and less like a thumb on my head. lol

***

Story: Letters From War

Rating: T-M, it'll vary. M rating for violence and mature situations and language! We're talking about Marines here...they have language issues. And M because I mostly can't write anything that doesn't get naughty at some point.

Synopsis: Michael Vaughn is a Sargeant Major in the United States Marine Corps. His story in Iraq is told through a series of letters that his mother receives until an single event changes their lives forever.

Read and review! I'm interested in what you guys think! I'm basing a lot of this on the aweomse show "Generation Kill" on HBO. I'm stealing a lot of their lingo and things that I learned from the show, so I suppose I should dislaim that while I of course don't own Alias, or any of its characters, I certainly don't own 'Generation Kill' and any of its scenarios - especially since a lot of them were based on real-life situations. No this isn't a crossover. Tossing that out there.

***

**Chapter 1: July 4th, 2010**

_~She walked to the mailbox_

_On that bright summers day_

_Found a letter from her son_

_In a war far away_

_He spoke of the weather_

_And good friends that he'd made_

_Said I'd been thinking 'bout dad_

_And the life that he had_

_Thats why I'm here today_

_And at the end he said_

_You are what I'm fighting for_

_It was the first of his letters from war~_

It was a warm afternoon, Emily walking out to the mailbox and trimming a few of the flowers along the way. The new neighbor waved as he watered the rose bushes his wife had put in a few days ago and she returned the gesture with a smile before turning and flipping down the lid.

A few catalogues and flyers for get rich quick schemes made up the bulk of the delivery, but a small letter tucked away snagged her attention. Seeing his familiar handwriting she gasped and clutched it to her chest, all but running into the house. Slamming the door behind her she tossed the rest of the mail, now forgotten, onto the kitchen table as she tore open the envelope and began reading.

_'I know I promised I'd write more...and I'm sorry mom. But, I made it. I know you weren't too thrilled about me going back, and while I do realize that you're my mother and will worry anyway...don't._

_Our deployment hasn't been that hard - at least not as hard as the first time over here. I suppose it has a lot to do with the fact that I'm not a FNG any longer (FNG being freaking new guy...kinda). It's hot as hell...way hotter than L.A., but I'm in good hands here with my recon team. We've got a good group of guys and while I'm excited that I finally get to be the one to throw around orders and make FNG's do push-ups whenever I want, I can't. These guys are all on their second tour, they know what to do even before I tell them. No FNG's on my recon team at all._

_Takes all the fun out of it, but at least I know that I can trust the man to my left or right with my life._

_I can't help but think about dad while I'm over here and yes - I carry his Purple Heart in my vest when I go out. He might be why I'm here today, but you're what I'm fighting for._

_Stay safe, okay? Happy Fourth of July! I hope this letter gets to you before the holiday. If not, happy LATE Fourth. You can write me using the address on the envelope, just know that the mail service sucks out here._

_I love you,_

_Michael'_

She wiped at the tears wetting her cheeks and smiled, pulling out the picture he'd sent along. He stood in the middle with what she assumed was his team. Each soldier had their sleeves rolled up and were flexing their muscles, some of the boys there scrawnier than she could ever imagine, their eyes blacked out by sunglasses.

Searching for a frame she finally stumbled across one with a picture of little Michael in his fourth grade play about eating healthy. Relacing the picture with the crinkled one in her hand she set it up on the mantle next to an older, faded photograph of her husband in much the same pose - standing side by side with the men of his platoon in the green jungles of Vietnam.

Collecting a pen and a piece of paper she sat and began to write her son a reply, but could think of none other than "I'm proud of you".

_'Michael,_

_You are good, and you are brave! You'll be such a good father some day, son. Your father would have been as proud as I am. _

_Make it home...make it home safely._

_I love you,_

_Mom'_

***

A/N: The first few chapters are gonna be pretty short, just because they're letters setting up the story. But when I throw in some plot they'll get longer. :P

-Jeanie


	2. Chapter 2: August 23rd, 2010

**Chapter 2: August 23rd, 2010**

The hot sun beat down on the roof of the Humvee, a young man fidgeting behind the wheel before releasing an aggravated sigh. "This is bullshit."

Vaughn laughed and peered at his companion over his sunglasses from the passenger side seat. "You know that they never give us equipment that works. Think of us as America's pit bulls. Mistreated and beat down until they let us out of the cage every once and a while when they need us to attack something."

Steam billowed from one of the vehicles near the front of the convoy, the bumpy road seeming to stretch on for miles along with the endless dunes of sand dotted with shrubs and bushes.

"This is bullshit."

"Calm down Espinoza, we'll get to the rally point soon enough." Michael laughed as he leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes, the M-16 resting casually on his lap. Sweat beaded and rolled down the sides of his face where his helmet was currently keeping the heat from escaping. _'I'd give anything for a breeze!'_

"At least you're not sitting in the back with no windows, Taco."

"That's racist, white boy." The man in the backseat laughed, his Spanish friend hitting the steering wheel with a tempo that only he could hear.

Vaughn couldn't help but smile at the banter between the soldiers he'd been teamed up with, this car and the one following behind it making up the Alpha Recon Unit. Peeking into the side mirror he spotted Gunny standing through the hole in the top of the armored vehicle, the .50 Caliber machine gun turned to the side as he tried to escape the sweltering heat being trapped in the vehicle. Michael vaguely remembered that their windows weren't working, the two available ones stuck half-way down - or half-way up depending on how hot the day was. Today, they were definitely stuck half-way up.

An hour passed before the convoy began moving, the warm wind better than stagnant hot air, and soon they rolled up to a large monitored gate. Passing through they reached the rally point, Delta and Charlie having arrived a day earlier. The campsite here was more of a medic field station than a base of operations. Marines were milling about, some doing work and others goofing off. A game of football was currently taking place adjacent to the large circus-like housing tents, the far eastern side coned and roped off as a temporary landing pad for two still black hawk helicopters and a small quick medic chopper. Directly next to that was a huge hospital tent, the flaps wide to let in the slightest breeze while showing off the empty bunks.

Filing out of the vehicles and stretching, their weapons hanging around their waists, the sounds of camp wafted around them. It was a stark contrast to the sounds of droning Humvees and wind-whipped sand.

"I can't wait to get out of this shit, man," Espinoza groaned as his back popped, Vaughn agreeing as an older man walked over to their group.

"You Alpha?"

"Yes, sir. Alpha here and Bravo bringing up the rear."

"You're late. Get together with Bravo and meet in the command tent in ten minutes."

"Yes, sir."

"C-ya, Vaughn." Faster than he thought they could move his men were out of the cars and picking bunks in the tents, leaving him and the Bravo team leaders to figure out their mission.

Peeling off his tactical vest, the shirt below it soaked with sweat, he stripped that one off as well and tossed both articles along with his hat back into the front seat of the Humvee. The black tight t-shirt would have to be formal enough.

***

"Now that Alpha and Bravo have joined us let's get down to the brass tacks."

_'Spoken like a true commander,' _Michael grinned, he and the leads of the four recon teams standing in the back while the Lieutenants, Commanders, and any of the other higher staff sat around a large recently constructed plywood table.

"Army Rangers are ready to head into the town of Shaykh, north of Baghdad. They're making their way out of the capitol city and trying to kick some of these Taliban bastards out of the outliers. You might be asking yourselves 'what would the U.S. Army Rangers need with us lowly Marines', right?"

"Hoo-ah, sir," several soldiers called out as they relaxed in their seats, the Commander folding his arms behind him and beginning to pace slowly at the front of the room.

"They need us to make sure that the town of Shaykh is worth their time - which apparently means they want us to waste our time in checking it out for them so we're on recon. Which is what we do best. This will be a month-long survey conducted by all four squads, Alpha through Delta. The drive to Shaykh is about 12 clicks south of camp. Rounds begin tomorrow with Alpha and Bravo seeing as they were late to the show."

"Yes, sir." Vaughn and Sergeant Major Hammer spoke simultaneously.

The meeting was short and they were sent packing, ordered to get their Humvees ready for the trip and load up with weapons, water, and food. The recon rotations were every four days, so they only assistance they'd get was from medivac if it was needed.

Exiting the tent they all seemed to go in separate directions, Michael heading straight to the tent where the mail came in. He was pleasantly surprised to find a letter waiting for him from his mother, tucking it into his pocket to read later after he set up his bunk.

The tent marked Devil Dogs in felt-tipped marker made him laugh as he stepped into the surprisingly cool interior where his men were lounging about getting their things sorted out.

"Hey, Sarge-Mage, when we gettin' some action?" The name embroidered into his button-up camoflauged shirt was Corporal Steinbauer, his wide black issued glasses sitting high on his nose as he looked up at Vaughn with curious and excited eyes.

"Sooner than you think. We're heading out to monitor Shaykh tomorrow for a four-day recon op with Bravo."

"Shit, man, we just got here!"

"What did you think you were gonna do on a second tour, Taco? A little R & R?" Sergeant Jones shot out as he unpacked his bag despite knowing full-well that he'd be repacking it for the four-day recon operation.

Throwing a boot across the bunks Vaughn caught it and knocked it to the floor, "now, now children, don't make me separate you. I'll put your ass in the Humvee with broken windows."

"No shit man, can we get that shit fixed before tomorrow?" Gunny growled as he walked in with a towel around his waist as water dripped off his muscled chest.

Six pairs of eyes rolled as Corporal Espinoza, which everyone had taken to calling Taco, laughed sarcastically. "Yeah, why don't you take it down to the local mechanic - maybe they'll give you a sweet deal. You could get some hot-ass rims while you're there."

Sighing and discarding his undershirt Michael pulled the krinkled letter from his pocket and flopped down on his bunk.

"Oooh, who's the letter from Sarge-Mage?"

"I'll bet it's a wicked hot girlfriend. If there's any pics and you find them missing, they're under Gunny's pillow." Espinoza laughed, stripping his clothes off and walking from the tent naked, "takin' a shower," he shouted over his shoulder, cat-calls filling the camp being overshadowed by the famous Taco line "you know you want it!"

"Get a towel you homo!" Steinbauer yelled after his comrade.

Michael ignored them as he smiled at the neat scrawl of his mother's cursive.

_'My Little Boy,_

_You are good, and you are brave! You'll be such a good father some day, son. Your father would have been as proud as I am._

_Make it home...make it safe._

_I love you,_

_Mom'_

Rolling his eyes as she still insisted in calling him her 'little boy' he slid the letter back into the envelope and into a side pocket deep in his pack. Sitting back up he found his men staring at him and realized he still wore his goofy smile, his mother's words cheering him up immensely.

"What? Do you all wanna take turns reading the letter from my mother? Unpack your shit, alright? Mess tent's gonna open in an hour and then we're on a four-day op. Where the hell is Frogger? Shouldn't he be unpacking?"

Frogger was the nickname for Corporal Lance Franklin, the young black man earning it on their first tour when he sat on a toad at base camp in the states before deployment, deftly giving away his phobia of the amphibians as he hopped around screaming for someone to get rid of it before he threw up.

Gunny, short for Gunnery Sergeant James Gunderson, pointed to the west of their tent. "I heard he was gonna play some basketball on the other side of the camp. Apparently some Delta boys think they're more black than he is and he needs to, as he said, 'rep-re-zent'."

Vaughn laughed as he fished around for his notepad and a pen, set on answering his mother's letter so she'd get it by September, if they were lucky.

_'Mom,_

_Have I mentioned that it's hot over here? Well it is. Spending days driving around in the desert with three other humvees and crammed in with four other guys gets to be a bit rough. Not to mention that they make you wear the biohazard suits just in case, which adds in the factor of insulation._

_I hate the desert!_

_We've got our first assigment! It's easy, so don't panic. We're doing recon in a town about 12 clicks from us, so nothing for you to worry about, they'll never even know we were there. We'll be heading out tomorrow. Our campsite is the largest medic station near Baghdad, so even if something happens we'll be taken care of._

_Paper cuts, bumped knees, you name it, they'll fix it._

_I'm staying safe! I got your letter, thanks so much for the words, mom. You're what I'm fighting for, don't forget that. Write when you can! We'll be here at camp for about a month before heading off again. I'll find your letters, don't worry._

_I love you,_

_Michael'_

***

A/N: I thought I'd start introducing members of Alpha team. I'd like to point out that I'm no racist, but I have hung out with marines, watched shows, especially Generation Kill, and to be honest, most Marines aren't racist - merely without "dampeners" on what they feel they can say. I'm just trying to stick close with that feel.

Anywho, thanks for the replies! Let me know what you all think!

-Jeanie


	3. Chapter 3: The Morning Of

A/N: I'll be using lingo in this chapter! I promise to have all the explanations at the end of the chapter if you see something, a phrase, that you don't quite know.

**Chapter 3: The Morning Of**

"Jesus Christ…you're a Marine! Are you really in here about this?"

"C'mon, doc, it…it really hurts."

"Bullshit," the doctor growled, though a dimpled smile shone through the mock attitude. Reaching into a drawer a bright pink band-aid with flowers was produced and put over the paper cut on the large soldier's finger. "Better now?"

"Could you kiss it for me?"

"Get out of my tent!"

Michael passed the snickering young man as he evacuated the medical tent, the flap open behind him. "Doc?"

He wasn't entirely prepared for the brunette young woman to peek around a large container, her eyes rolling as she called him over. "What now? Need a shoulder rub; pull a hamstring and need your leg stretched?"

Vaughn laughed and suddenly the nearly steady stream of young men entering and leaving the tent with usually nothing more than a band-aid or a little square of antibacterial ointment made sense – every single Marine was making a move on the 'hot nurse'.

"Oh no…I'm not a horndog like the others. I just wanted to chat since you're the medic on-call. Vaughn; Alpha Recon. We're heading up to Shaykh for a four-day op and the Commander wanted me to check in with the medic team periodically – and that would be you."

"Oh…" she blushed, stripping the latex gloves from her hands and stepping out from her corner to shake his hand. "Lieutenant Bristow – good to meet you. I'm the doc on-call and we have a rotation of 24 hours. From here to Shaykh it'll probably take three minutes to ready the chopper, or choppers depending on the emergency, and another five minutes to get there. Keep that in mind if you need to call in. Our radios here are on the same frequency as those in the command tent, but we usually don't have them on all the time."

"So…eight minutes if we get into the sh*t?"

"Eight minutes average, six if I can get their asses in gear."

"We're not planning on any problems, so here's hoping you don't hear from me."

A final handshake and Vaughn left the tent. Heading back over to where his men still slept he poked his head in. "Ladies, rise and shine! Only the Army needs beauty sleep!"

Grumbles and groans ensued, though most of the men were rolling out of their bunks and reaching for their camo pants. After rousing, shaving, and brushing their teeth Vaughn got them together for a run. A few of the guys from Bravo joined, though most of the other recon unit had decided that the mess tent was far more important. After three laps around the camp Bravo team had dropped out, Alpha continuing for another three before calling it and catching their breath.

"Go get food; we meet at the Humvees with our packs packed and our gear ready at 0800."

Breakfast was quiet, mostly, until Espinoza waltzed in. "I heard that Sarge-Mage met the medic on-call."

"So?" Steinbauer asked with a mouth full of hash browns.

"Dude…the doc is HOT! Like…smokin'!"

"Down, boy," Gunny chuckled as he slid in beside Vaughn with his metal tray of eggs, bacon, sausage, and hash browns.

The young man laughed and shrugged the comment off, reaching over and snagging one of Gunny's sausage patties. "Watch it, Taco, you'll pull back a stub if I catch you stealin' my food again."

Faking a tremble he stuffed the ill-gotten meat into his mouth and munched it while groaning and rubbing his stomach over how good it tasted.

Gunny pointed over with his fork at Taco, his words directed at Vaughn; "I'm might have to kill him,"

"That's why you're in separate cars," Michael mumbled through a mouthful of eggs. "But I'll let you know if you can."

Espinoza faked a pout, "and here I thought I was your favorite."

Breakfast ended quickly as Alpha and Bravo got their gear together and began restocking their Humvees for the operation. Water and ammunition were first priority for both the vehicle and reserves for the soldiers. Boxes of .50 caliber rounds were loaded up in the back seat of all four cars within easy reach of the heavy gunners. Smaller cases of 5.56mm and 7.60mm rounds were loaded up as Steinbauer and Jones checked the weapons, the two M249 light machine guns getting loaded and prepped.

Aside from the mounted gun on the top of the vehicles the backseat LMG soldiers were the fire-power barrage if the group was ambushed, each able to hold between 60 and 80 rounds of ammunition – 120 if they loaded up the large drum.

Bravo milled about as Alpha checked their weapons, Espinoza leaning in as Frogger tossed his medic supply case and pack into the second car, "looks like Bravo got the busted-ass Humvee with the windows stuck up."

While Alpha team had lucked out and had a group of soldiers that had all previously been to either Iraq or Afghanistan, Bravo wasn't so lucky. Out of their whole team four of the nine guys were FNG's and they looked the part. Hair tousled as if they'd just rolled out of the bunk, weapons hanging from their sides rather than in front of them, barrels pointed into the sand, the four of them stood together off to the side at Sergeant-Major Hammer and Vaughn got together.

"You lucked out Vaughn, not getting the noobs."

"Well, what can I say – sometimes you get it easy. You givin' the pre-mission rally talk?"

"Not if I don't have to," Hammer muttered and held his hand up in a fist, the other supporting it underneath in the classic pose that said 'we'll decide this by a friendly round of rock, paper, scissors'.

Michael grumbled and lifted his hand up, each man counting to three and throwing out an option. Losing scissors to rock Hammer chuckled and patted Vaughn on the shoulder.

"Best two out of three?" Michael begged.

"Hell no."

"Hey…no offense or anything but I'm gonna have Alpha lead the convoy over,"

"No problem. I've got FNG's. That puts me low on the totem pole."

The commanding officer and his lieutenant walked over, the lower ranking man throwing out orders that Bravo's new guys desperately hurried to follow.

"Boy you'd better get a haircut when you get back, this ain't a hippy commune!"

"Yessir!" Confusion passed his face, the name on his uniform reading 'McKinley', as he reached a hand up to his short buzz-cut hair style.

"And you…you fuckin' new guy. You don't have your safety on! That is a hot weapon soldier! You think you're exempt from the rules?"

The commander sighed and rubbed his hand over his eyes the other squeezing the shoulder of his pit-bull of a lieutenant before interrupting.

"Your two recon teams are heading north to Shaykh. Observation only. You'll be splitting up, Bravo using an east entrance and Alpha using the south entrance. Up until you split up Alpha has operational control. This is recon only, understand? We need information about this city not a bloodbath because one of you hot-headed FNG's decides that he thinks a f*ckin' gourd in a civi's hand is an AK-47, hoo-rah?"

"Hoo-rah!"

"Sergent-Major?"

Vaughn stepped up and adjusted his gear, heaving a sigh as he faced the men in both units. "We're all Recon Marines; we know what we're supposed to do. Do not fire unless fired upon, understand? If you misfire…Marines die. Do not break cover by dicking around. If you break our cover…Marines die. No dead Marines."

"Alright. Alpha and Bravo, we're oscar mike."

Hoots and hollers from the veterans filled the air as the four vehicles loaded up and the engines revved, Alpha and Bravo exiting the compound and heading out on the lonely, long road north.

***

"'On the road again; just can't wait to get on the road again'; c'mon guys, you know the words."

"Shut up, Taco."

"'The life I love is makin' music with my friends, and I just can't wait to get on the road again'!"

The singing continued with Vaughn and Steinbauer joining in, Jacobsen rolling his eyes and watching the desert fly by. Singing loudly in his ear was their .50 cal operator, Corporal Dawson, his own southern accent filling the rig and making the others laugh. This accent and his love for country music had earned him the unoriginal nickname of Cowboy.

A half hour later the city of Shaykh rose before them, the road on the way to the main southern entrance littered with bombed, broken, and charred vehicles.

Vaughn had ordered the vehicles stopped and lifted the radio to talk with Bravo team. "Echo 2-2 this is Echo 1-1, copy?"

"Go ahead Echo 1-1."

"We've got a shit ton of blown up vehicles here on the road about fifty meters ahead of us. They're not blocking the path but I don't think it's a good idea to continue on this road toward the city. I'm gonna get in touch with base camp to get an update. Sit tight."

"Copy that Echo 1-1."

"Home Base this is Echo 1-1, how copy?"

"This is Home Base Echo 1-1, go ahead."

"Sir we've got vehicles on the side of the road approaching the city showing signs of possibly mortar fire, RPG's, IED's, maybe all of the above. I've ordered the vehicles stopped about fifty meters from the first blown up car, how should we proceed?"

"What's your honest opinion, Vaughn?"

"Honest? I wouldn't approach via the south road. We could off-road it up to the entrance but if the cause of all this shit isn't IED's we'll be sitting ducks trying to turn around while getting hit with RPG's and small arms fire."

"Do you see any hostiles on rooftops?"

"Hang on, we'll scope." Pulling the radio-phone away from his ear he leaned his head into the backseat. "Jacobsen, scope up and jump out the hole. Check the rooftops of any visible building and let me know if you see hostiles."

"Yes sir," he was quick to follow orders, reaching behind Cowboy in the tight space and pulling out his sniper rifle, trading his M16 for the long-range weapon. Sticking the barrel out the open top of the Humvee first he set it up while sliding around his teammates. Poking on his upper body out, using his arm and the roof of the car as a prop, he flipped open the lid on the scope and peered through.

"No visible targets on the roof, Sarge-Mage, and I don't see anyone milling around at the entrance or standing guard. IED's?"

"Hell if I know," he growled, something settling low in his stomach, picking the radio back up and continuing. "Home Base we've got no visible targets on the rooftops, nor does anyone appear to be watching the road from the southern entrance. How should we proceed?"

"Follow the operation as ordered, Echo 1-1. Rather than splitting up to tackle the east entrance keep Bravo with you. We don't need the shit to hit the fan and have you alone in it."

Michael sighed, shaking his head. Second guessing his commanding officers was frowned upon, but when it could be the lives of him men he couldn't keep the words from leaving his mouth. "Are you sure sir? I'd much rather recon the east entrance before continuing."

"You've got your orders, Echo 1-1. The Rangers are gonna be heading into the south entrance, it needs recon."

"Copy that, Echo 1-1 out."

They sat in silence for a moment, Michael pulling Jacobsen back into the vehicle and trying to come up with a plan. "Jacobsen, did you bring a ghillie?"

"Yes sir."

Nodding, he began putting his plan into action. "You see that knoll about 100 meters east of the road? These trenches and blown up cars should give you enough cover to get there if you ghillie up. You need a spotter?"

"I could use one. What about Paul?"

"That'll work. Echo 2-2 this is Echo 1-1, copy?"

"Go ahead, Vaughn."

"Command has reissued orders; you're to accompany Alpha into the town via the south entrance. I'm sending Jacobsen out with his rifle to this knoll east of here can Paul join him?"

"Ghillie up?"

"You got it. They'll be able to give us at least some kind of warning if they pull out mortars or set up RPG's through windows of the outer buildings."

"Copy that." Michael watched in the side mirror as the radio went silent, Jacobsen jumping out of the vehicle and moving to the back to provide cover while yanking the ghillie suit from his pack and putting it on. Shouldering his rifle he crouched low and jumping into the trench beside the road, a skittering of rocks and another covered soldier sliding in beside him announcing the arrival of Paul, his spotter. They slunk off through the trenches, the vehicles moving forward slowly.

"Sarge-Mage?" Taco muttered, his hand gripping the wheel with white knuckles. "Don't you think we'll need J-man if we get ambushed? Five guys are better than four, right?"

"You second guessing me, Taco?"

"Merely asking for help with a math problem, sir."

"Trust me; you'd rather have him out there."

Moving at a crawling pace Vaughn clicked the safety off of his rifle and ordered both teams to go hot. With a hoot Dawson readjusted his helmet and made sure his vest was secure, the metal plate over his chest heavy and pulling at his shoulders as he stood and took his position behind the massive mounted gun. Cocking it and hoping that it didn't jam he slid the tactical goggles over his eyes and put his hands on the gun ready to fire it if necessary.

Michael saw Gunny repeat the action in the vehicle behind them, the two Bravo cars getting into gear as well.

Despite the noise from the engines it was eerily quiet. On a windless morning, the first in days, the clear blue sky shone over Shaykh, the only thing missing from the scene being civilians as they went about their daily routines. There didn't seem to be anyone near the road or where it entered the city.

"Jacobsen, copy?"

"Copy sir, Paul and I are crawling up the knoll we'll be in position soon."

"How soon is soon? Soon isn't a military term,"

"Approximately 33.7 seconds, Sarge-Mage."

Vaughn grinned, sobering up as they passed by the first charred car. Then the second. Still silent…still eerie, they continued until they were approximately thirty yards away from the entrance. Shouting over the radio broke the silence, Jacobson's voice yelling almost incoherently.

"RPG's! RPG's!"

The crack of a fired rifle pierced the air as Jacobson took shots into the city, a cloud of smoke and a rocket propelled grenade flying over the top of Vaughn's vehicle. Plowing into the road to the right of the rear Bravo Humvee the car was tossed on its side as the ground shook from the explosion.

Gunny and Cowboy didn't wait for orders. Turning the guns on the building where the window filled with smoke from the firing of the RPG they began shooting.

"Everybody out of the vehicles!" Vaughn shouted over the sudden explosions of the loud mounted guns, the doors opening and men pouring out as they took cover beside the vehicle.

Small arms fire erupted from the entrance, the short nearly blown out and bullet ridden walls providing perfect enemy cover as the Humvee's took most of the damage. The Marines returned fire, their weapons blending in with the .50 caliber guns as they shot blindly at the openings in the cement, aiming anywhere that a muzzle flash could be seen.

Michael attached his communication device over his ear and flipped it on.

"Home Base this is Echo 1-1, we've been compromised just outside the city. RPG's disabled our rear Bravo vehicle and with the cars on the side of the road we can't turn around. Get the medic team in a chopper and load up one of those Blackhawks with reinforcements!"

"Copy that, Echo 1-1. ETA: eleven minutes for reinforcements, eight minutes for medic support."

Throwing himself down as another explosion tossed sand and chunks of asphalt up into his faces, Michael pushed back to the second Alpha car. "Frogger! Get back to Bravo two and see if they have wounded!"

Obeying he ducked and scampered off, the medic bag bouncing on his back.

"Seven minutes," Vaughn whispered to himself, lifting his gun and readying the under mounted grenade launcher. Loading it and cocking it he stood and fired at the entrance. Screams broke the gunfire but it continued a moment later.

"Alpha, on me!" Yelling at the top of his lungs while making wide gestures his men gathered up as best as they could while trying to keep their cover by the Humvees. "Spread out into the debris on the side of the road! Choose your cover! Help will be here in seven minutes!"

He grabbed Espinoza's vest as the young man turned and began to move off, "not you, you stay with me."

Static crackled over his ear piece, the Commanders voice invading his head. "Alpha, we have a problem. We've got one Blackhawk down with engine problems and we're gonna need the time to refuel the other. The medic chopper is on its way, ETA 5 minutes. Reinforcements ETA about 17 minutes."

"Fuck!"

Relaying information Vaughn stayed close to the front vehicle. "Taco, you take up position at the rear of Alpha two, copy? You keep Gunny firing that beast, help him reload if he needs."

Blood rushed in his ears and the deafening sound of the mounted gun directly above him wasn't helping.

"Six minutes."

***

A/N: We're in it now! Alrighty, the terms are below! Feel free to google them all (I did when I needed to learn the definitions of some of them).

**ETA**: Estimated Time of Arrival

**IED**: Improvised Explosive Device

**Oscar mike**: On the move

**RPG**: Rocket propelled grenade

**Echo 1-1**: Vaughn's Humvee

**Echo 1-2**: 2nd Alpha Humvee

**Echo 2-2**: 1st Bravo Humvee

**Echo 2-3**: 2nd Bravo Humvee

**Home Base**: Command center

**Ghillie Suit**: Used by snipers as cover in desert or jungle environments. This suit makes them look like shaggy dogs (in my opinion). Google it for pics.

**.50 Caliber**: The massive bullets used by the mounted Humvee guns and occasionally sniper rifles (anti-vehicle sniper rifles like the M107 Barrett).

**7.60mm**: The ammunition used for sniper rifles and some assault rifles.

**5.56mm**: The ammunition used for most assault rifles, e.g. the M16.

**Blackhawk**: Helicopter used mostly to drop off additional soldiers. They are usually open on both sides and equipped with a mounted .50 caliber machine gun or chain gun.

And I think that's it. Let me know if I used something here that you aren't familiar with! I watch a lot of military shows and play games like Call of Duty Modern Warfare, so I hear and know these terms a lot.

-Jeanie


	4. Chapter 4: In the Shit

**Chapter 4: In the Shit**

"Echo 1-1 this is Little Bird. ETA thirty seconds." The pilot waited for confirmation, the radio crackling in his ear with a loud voice and weapons fire filling the comm.

"Good!"

"Hey Syd, it sounds hot over there, where the hell are we gonna land?"

"Shit, I don't know. We've got the wing-mounted miniguns for a reason! Drop us off and we'll radio you in to pick us up – until then provide cover fire if possible."

"Copy that."

Smoke billowed in the direction they were heading, the pilot arming the guns and coming up fast over the battling Marines. Opening fire on the wall and the buildings behind the minigun tore through the concrete as the chopper circled around and began a descent behind the flipped Humvee. Securing the medical supplies four staff jumped out as the bird left to reclaim its spot circling over the two teams.

"Corporal, what'cha got?" Bristow asked with a shout, tucking the pistol back in its case at her hip and kneeling over a wounded Marine next to Franklin.

"This Humvee got hit hard – flipped by an RPG. We've got burns and shrapnel wounds from the glass of the windows, but no gunshots yet. Those Iraqi's are a terrible shot!"

The medical team dove in, spreading out and assisting mostly the Bravo soldiers that had been inside the rear vehicle.

"Medic!" Frantic screaming from ahead caught her attention, Sydney moving forward and pulling a shocked young man with her.

Crouching the whole way with bullets ricocheting off of the metal of the vehicles she spotted a Marine climbing into the lead vehicle and pulling out a bloodied soldier. Under the dirt, grime and sweat she recognized him as the lead of the mission, the young man that had introduced himself to her earlier that morning.

Carrying his wounded comrade to the back of the vehicle he laid him on his back, "Dawson!" Slapping his cheeks lightly the man didn't respond, Sydney pushing her way in and unclipping the tactical vest as blood pulsed from an abdominal wound and a bullet hole in his neck. His eyes opened suddenly, filled with panic, and she flashed him a bright smile while retrieving a roll of gauze from her pack.

"You're gonna be fine, sweetheart, just relax."

Michael's ears were ringing despite the silent .50 caliber gun above them, Gunny still firing like a mad-man from his position behind them. "He gonna be okay?"

Rather than answer she pulled out a breathing tube and a scalpel. "He's not getting any air we need to make an airway. Hold this," she ordered, pressing the items into her assistants shaking hands. "Hey…Johnson! Don't get all zoned out on me, okay? You're a medic. Get with it."

He nodded dumbly unable to take his eyes off the gruesome scene in front of him. Cutting a hole below the bullet wound she inserted the new tube, the young man finally taking a shaky and less than full breath.

"You make sure this airway stays unobstructed, alright?" Johnson nodded as she taped the breathing tube to his neck around the incision and set to packing the neck wound with gauze before moving to the abdominal area.

Minutes felt like hours, and Vaughn watched the medics work over Cowboy from the corner of his eye while firing at anything moving behind the holes in the wall. A small object flew from behind the obstruction and landed in the trench to his right, the two men down there scattering and trying to avoid the explosion from the grenade as it went off.

Gunny's direction changed to the place he saw the projectile come from, the huge bullets leaving gaping holes and Michael used the unintentional cover fire opportunity to dive head-long into the trench where Taco, cut up but otherwise unharmed, sat over Steinbauer yanking the pin of his own explosive and chucking it as hard as he could out of the trench and toward the city.

"Get out of the trench!" Following his order Espinoza retreated away from the vehicles and taking cover behind the charred remains of an old Volkswagen van. Michael hefted Steinbauer up by his vest and pulled him to the edge of the trench.

Peeking over the only person in range was Bristow and he shouted, miraculously seeing her turn to look at him. "Cover fire!"

"I've only got a pistol!"

Hearing his boot camp officers voice in his head repeating '_do not __**ever**__ give away your weapon'_ over and over he tossed his M16 in her direction. She lifted it and jumped out, peppering the wall with rounds as Michael grabbed Steinbauer and dragged him across behind the Humvees.

Sydney felt the stinging burn and knew instantly what it was. Tossing the rifle back over to Vaughn she gripped her upper arm and felt the blood leak through her shirt and coat her fingers.

"Shit," she growled, picking up another roll of gauze and wrapping it sloppily over the wound, Vaughn pulling his knife out of its sheath and helping her cut it off.

"You okay?"

She nodded without answering, leaning in with her ear over the wounded soldier's mouth. "He's not breathing," she muttered, maneuvering between Dawson and the other medic. "I need you to do chest compressions, can you do that?"

Nodding he placed his hands over Steinbauer's chest and began administering half of the CPR as Bristow breathed into his mouth.

After two solid minutes they stopped, their hearts heavy as the young man still lay between them, breath devoid from his body.

"Doc, come in," the pilot crackled over her comm..

"What's up?"

"I took a hit right in the rotar…I don't think I can get back to base with any crew."

"Fuck! Can you take one person with you? Wounded or not?"

"Maybe one…but he'd better be a skinny son of a bitch. My pedals are rockin like crazy up here."

Sydney peered up, seeing the helicopter above them vibrating about with smoke pouring from the top. "Head back, Little Bird, get that checked out. We'll have the Blackhawk here in a few minutes."

Michael looked confused as the medical helicopter turned and headed back. "Where's he going?"

"The prop is fucked, he couldn't take us back. The Blackhawk's ETA is two minutes, let's get the wounded back behind the flipped Humvee and get them loaded up. They can hold six passengers with three wounded on stretchers. The more we can toss in the better."

"I've got eight on my team alone, Bravo has six."

"Then it'll have to be two trips."

Rolling his eyes heavenward they proceeded to carry Dawson and Steinbauer back behind the overturned Bravo vehicle, four other wounded soldiers sitting and being bandaged.

"Can they sit up?"

"Shouldn't have a problem, Sarge Mage."

"Good. Frogger, you get the wounded on the Blackhawk, ETA two minutes. Whoever else we can pile in safely will get a seat."

As they talked the gun ahead went silent, Vaughn quickly seeing what happened to Gunny. His eyes spotted the soldier vaulting out of the hole and out onto the desert floor, coughing as dust filled his lungs and the breath left his body. The Humvee shook with the explosion, one of the Insurgents clearly lobbing a grenade into the top of the car.

"You lucky shit!" Michael yelled, bolting out and dragging the gunnery sergeant back to the rear position. "Jacobsen, get Paul and Espinoza and get back here." Bullets continued to zing past, ricocheting off the metal of the cars as he heard a muffled reply.

"Copy that, Sarge Mage."

The roaring of an engine over head and the scattering of dust temporarily blinded the group. The descending Blackhawk, with side-mounted gun going crazy, setting down next to them.

A volley of orders flew around, two medics jumping into the chopper and assisting with boarding the wounded.

"How much room you got?"

"I could take six assuming they can sit up and aren't in stretchers."

Loading them up until it was nearly full Michael peered in. Two seats left and there were four of them.

"We should get Steinbauer in. He needs to get home." Bristow's words rang true to each Marine there. "Espinoza, grab a stretcher if you can."

Sydney and Michael moved forward, her grabbing the legs as gently as she could as Vaughn wrapped his fingers around his vest and hefted him up. Jacobsen and Paul jumped up over the trench and tossed off their ghillie suits, crouching down and looking expectantly for orders.

"J, help them get in the chopper, I think you're staying here till the next trip with me."

"I'm staying too Sarge-Mage." Espinoza piped up, the zing of a bullet making him flinch as it bounced off the metal of the car and slammed into the dirt at his feet. He moved off toward the chopper, slinging an arm around one of the wounded Bravo soldiers and helping him in the aircraft.

A whooshing sound filled the air and the ground shook. The RPG hit in front of him, knocking Vaughn to his backside and the air from his lungs. His ears rung but he sat up quickly to see where it had hit and if anyone else was going to be a casualty of this operation.

"Oh shit!" Clambering over he spotted the medic blinking and desperately trying to clear the fog from her addled brain. "Bristow, shit!"

"I'm okay," she muttered, her voice barely audible, attempting to sit up.

"No…no, sit still." Michael surveyed the damage and set a hand to the front of her vest, pushing her back to the ground. The torn bottom of her left camo pants-leg was devoid of any structure, the leg below it lying in a million pieces around the crater behind her.

"MEDIC!"

"Holy shit…" Frogger muttered as he crouched down next to the two of them, the pilot yelling through his comm. that he'd have to get out of there quick.

"Wrap it up and we'll get her on the chopper."

Picking up the stump and wrapping it in gauze Michael unbuckled her helmet. "Hey, Bristow, stay awake, okay? You get my seat out of here." Setting her helmet on her chest deliberately, he hoped that it'd obscure her vision if she attempted to look down at the gruesome sight.

"No…I…I'm staying I'm – fine."

"You took an RPG to the ass, lady. I'm pulling rank."

"My rank is higher than yours," she growled, a darkness edging along the corner of her vision.

"Higher or not – you stay still. You're gonna be just fine."

She heaved a sigh and rolled her eyes, shaking her head and causing her long brown hair to tumble out of the unclipped helmet. "Shit…how bad is it?"

"You're fine."

"I'm the one that always says 'you'll be fine'…I know what it means. How bad?"

"Bristow…you've got my seat, alright? You'll be fine."

He got the nod from the medic and picked her up, carrying her over to the chopper as he started up. Her eyes rolled back as she lost consciousness, Espinoza coming to stand by his side as they watched the chopper lift off and head back to base, not knowing if they'd make it till the second trip.

Pain. Incredible pain flashed through her whole body, and though she wanted to sink back into the black oblivion of sleep, she forced her eyes to open. The shrill beeping of the otherwise sound-devoid room made her frown.

'_This isn't the tent…where the hell am I?'_

"Psst…hey…she's wakin' up."

Two faces all of a sudden were above her, one she recognized as the man that Sergeant Major Vaughn had been referring to as Dawson – the man she'd created an airway for. The other she vaguely recognized, but they scattered when the doors opened.

"Get back to your cots," a voice growled, Sydney merely closing her eyes and willing her mind to focus.

"Where…am I?"

"Lieutenant Bristow, you're in London."

"London? When…what…how…"

"All in due time, alright? I'm putting you on a water drip to try and get the drugs out of your system, okay?"

"I don't…understand."

The doctor sighed, shining a flashlight in each eye and making her headache all the worse. "You're going home, Bristow."

"What?"

"You've got a one-way ticket back to the States."

"Shit…it must'a been bad then, huh?"

"Well…it's not pretty. From all accounts the RPG hit pretty close."

Gunny spoke up from his position on his cot, a patch over his right eye. "Pretty close? She took it in the ass."

"Thank you, _Gunny_." Scolding the soldier with a scowl the doctor continued. "You'll need severe rehabilitation, Lieutenant, but there are doctors state-side that can help you with that."

"How bad is bad?"

"You lost the bottom part of your left leg, Lieutenant. I'm sorry – it'll take some time to adjust, but I figured I'd just be straight with you."

Tears filled her eyes as she attempted to lift her head up, her eyes catching the bandages around the stump. Just below the knee…her leg was gone.

"When…how long ago did I get here?"

"You were wounded last Thursday, and you've been out for about five days. I'll come check on you in a bit, alright?"

With that he left, Sydney unable to pull her eyes from her leg.

"Hey, Bristow, I'm sorry." Gunny stood and made his way over, sitting on the edge of her cot. "I lost my eye when the damn thing hit. A fuckin' rock took it out."

"Shit…this…this wasn't how it was supposed to be, you know? I've done two tours already."

"Third time's a charm, eh?"

She couldn't help the masochistic laugh that bubbled out, her heart feeling heavy and her mind reeling.

"Hey have...you heard anything about the guys that got left behind? About Vaughn? I'd like to thank him for getting my ass out of there."

"Nothing new...still missing."

"_Missing_?"

Gunny nodded sadly. "Vaughn, Taco and J-man are all still missing, according to the reports I've heard. And the Bravo sniper, Paul. The Rangers hit the town two days ago and there's no sign other than their dog tags."

"He gave me his seat on the chopper," Sydney mumbled, Gunny patting her arm and moving back to his own bed.

"Hey...did...did Vaughn have a wife - or girlfriend? I want to write them a letter. You know they'll never get anything from the military that gives them any info."

"Nah - no wife, no girlfriend. He was married to the Marine Corps. His mom does live in LA though, they kept letters back and forth."

"Any idea what her name is?"

"Umm...Amy? Emily? Something like that. You really gonna write to Vaughn's mom?"

"Yeah. I mean...I wouldn't be here if it weren't for him. She deserves to know everything I do. Which...isn't much...but, it'll be better than a letter from the services saying 'we are doing all we can'. Thank you,"

"No prob, Bristow."

The other soldiers curled up on their cots but Sydney wasn't able to find sleep. The pain was there, a never ending dull thump, and she knew that the road ahead wouldn't be an easy one. She closed her eyes, the unconsciousness descending.

A/N: Well...here we go! My actual story idea is going to start shaping up! Anywho, this chapter was a PAIN to write! Sorry it took me so long. Let me know what you think!

-Jeanie


	5. Chapter 5: Home Again

**Chapter 5: Home Again**

By the fifth ring she almost hung up, but a quick answer and a hurried and breathless, "Hello? Hello? What?" made her laugh.

"Damn, Will, they still keeping you that busy?"

"Holy shit...Sydney?"

"Yeah."

"Hang on a sec..." Murmured voices and a lot of cluttering noises made her smile while sitting in the uncomfortable chair waiting for her plane. "Ouch! Damnit! No...I said I'd get to that. Look...I'm on the phone!"

"Will?"

"Yeah, yeah. Sorry, Syd. So...to what do I owe the pleasure? How's Iraq?"

"Thats' a weird question," she muttered as she looked around and saw about a dozen people staring at her with sympathetic eyes. Donned in her military garb, the left leg of her pants hanging loosely down to the floor, she averted her eyes and concentrated on the voice of her friend.

"Yeah, I suppose so. What's up?"

"Look...I'm coming home - okay? I was just wondering if...if you could pick me up from the airport."

"Coming home...didn't you just get there like, three months ago?"

"Well...you know how war is."

"Syd...you okay?"

She didn't quite know how to answer. "Well...not really. My flight gets in at like, two in the morning. Can you pick me up?"

"Sydney Anne - I know you far too well. What's up?"

"Will...I got shot, okay? I'll be fine - but they've sent me home. Can you pick me up?"

"Shot?"

"Yep."

"How?"

_'Shit.'_

"With a gun."

"Syd...you know I'll pick you up. I'm a reporter, okay? I'll grill you later but you will be grilled." Grabbing a pen and piece of paper he jotted the information down. "See you at 2AM okay?"

"Thanks, Will, I really appreciate it."

Hanging up she heard the announcement for her flight. Reaching for the crutches to her left she stood, hobbling a bit. _'Jesus. Learning how to walk was bad enough, now I have to un-learn everything.'_ She faltered a bit when lifting her carry-on bag, one of the crutches clattering to the floor. Casting her eyes heavenward she heaved a frustrated sigh.

A young man approached her, his Army uniform crisp and clean. He reached down and grabbed the crutch and handed it to her, saluting and holding his position.

"As you were. Thanks for the help soldier."

"Thank _you_ ma'am." He made his way back to his friends and family.

Boarding the plane she sat quietly in her seat staring as the seat back before her.

_'How the hell am I gonna do this?'_

"You sure she said this terminal?"

"Francie, I wrote it all down." Will paced as Francie sat flipping through a magazine.

"And that means that you can't screw something up?"

Casting a glare at her he continued his pacing.

Sydney watched them from the the side exit of her terminal as she tried to find the courage to make herself known. _'Well...there's no time like the present. Jesus, you jump in and out of choppers and into combat without a second thought,'_

_'But,'_ her brain interrupted, _'you were __**trained**__ for combat and jumping out of choppers.'_

Heaving a sigh she hobbled forward, the crutches still feeling a bit unnatural. "Who you waiting for?"

Will whipped around and spotted her there, Francie dropping her magazine and grinning from ear to ear. "Syd!" They yelled simultaneously, bounding over and engulfing her in a group hug.

"Easy...woah...easy guys!" They pulled back eyes immediately going to the crutches.

"What, did you get shot in the ass?"

"Close actually. It's gonna be a bit different from here on out guys," she mumbled, pointing down to her leg.

"Oh my god, Syd...you...I'm so sorry sweetie!" Francie's hand flew over her mouth and tears fell from her eyes, Sydney waving her off though she felt the familiar welling and tightening at the back of her throat.

"We'll get used to it. You sure I can stay with you guys for a while?"

Will set a hand to her shoulder, "Syd...you can stay with us forever, okay? Let's go get your bags."

Gathering them up and heading outside Will ran to get the car as she and Francie waited by the curb. "How...did it happen?"

"Well have plenty of time to talk, I promise."

Seeing the look on Sydney's face Francie decided to let it go. _'What does it matter how...I mean...it happened.'_

The ride home was silent, Sydney ignoring the throbbing in her leg – which she was getting used to – and Will and Francie holding back their desire to ask the million or so questions lurking behind their lips. Getting to the apartment and unloading her things Will helped her to the door with the heavy bag over his shoulder.

"Good god, Syd, what did you bring back? Rocks?"

"Hey, the first thing they teach you in the Marines is how to pack a bag." Flopping down onto the couch she sunk into its comfortable cushions. "This is the most amazing couch ever."

Francie laughed as she set herself down facing her friend, Will dropping the bag and claiming the seat across the way as a yawn escaped his lips.

"Why don't you two go to bed? It's like, middle of the afternoon for me." She spotted their hesitation, flashing them each a dimpled smile. "I swear, I'll tell you all about it. Just…not right now. I kind of want to just pretend that everything is normal."

"Does your dad know you're…home?"

The reporter's question cause an eye roll, her hands fidgeting in her lap. "Someone probably told him I'm out, undoubtedly. Not much gets past the Admiral's desk, even if it's from a different branch of the armed services."

"Well, I'm going back to bed. Syd, we turned the den into an extra room so it's all ready for you. I'm glad you're home, despite everything, and that you're safe." Pressing her lips to Sydney's forehead Francie departed.

"Hey…you have a phone book?"

Will cocked his eyebrow before reaching into a bag on the table and pulled out a laptop. "Phone books are so last century."

She laughed, accepting the computer and sitting it on her lap. "Who you lookin' for?"

"A woman with the last name of Vaughn, though I'll probably end up calling a few of them before I find her since I don't know her first name. She lives here in LA someone said, and I need to talk to her about her son."

"Was he a Marine?"

Sydney paused, not knowing how to respond. "Hopefully he's still a Marine."

Emily sat up as fast as her protesting back muscles would allow at the sound of the ringing phone. Tossing her gloves on the ground she flew into the house cursing that she'd left it on the counter. Sticking close to home knowing that Michael may end up at a base with a phone, it was all but glued to her hand wherever she moved around the house.

Grabbing it and pushing the button she breathlessly uttered a hello expecting to hear his laughing voice on the other end.

"Is…is this Mrs. Vaughn?"

The smile left her face as she rolled her eyes heavenward. "For goodness sake, I'm waiting for an important phone call! I'm on the do not call list for solicitors!"

"No…wait…I'm not a solicitor!" Yelling since she assumed she was being hung up on, the voice waited for a moment. "Hello?"

"I'm sorry dear, I just assumed…well nevermind. This is Mrs. Vaughn, what can I help you with?"

Sighing in relief, audible over the speaker on Emily's end, "I don't know if I even have the right person, I'm just going through a list. Do you have a son in the Marines? Michael Vaughn?"

Feeling as if her heart had slammed to a stop, her chest reverberating with the frantic beats, Emily nearly fell into the closest chair. "Yes…Michael. Are…you – are you with the…notification services?"

Oh the other end of the line Sydney's heart broke for the woman, tears springing to her eyes as Francie tightened her grip on her hand.

"No…no ma'am, I'm not with the notification service."

"Oh thank God…I…I couldn't handle a phone call like that."

"I…I was stationed in Iraq with Vaughn and I'd like to talk to you in person if that's possible. This…isn't a conversation for anything less than face to face."

Emily thought hard for a moment, unsure about how to feel. The raw bubbling emotions of thinking her son was dead was still rampant throughout her entire being, and though she was worried about meeting with a stranger, this truly wasn't a stranger if this young lady served with her son.

"I know that I'm a stranger calling you, you don't know me but...but I need to talk with you about your son. Please."

"Do you have a pen?"

Alrighty - I suppose that's where we'll stop right now. :) Sorry it took me so long to get this damn thing out - I wrote piece by piece in my free time. But, summer is winding down! I just have to survive October at our museum (looking like about 2,500 kids) and then it'll be relaxing I hope!

Let me know what you think!

-Jeanie


	6. Chapter 6: Acquaintances

**Chapter 6: Acquaintances**

"Fifteen minutes…there has to be something else to clean around here," the older woman growled as she got up from the couch for seemingly the hundredth time in the last five minutes. Settling on the vase across the room she couldn't help but pass the photo her son had sent her in his previous letter. "Oh, Michael, you promised you'd be safe!"

Tears welled in her eyes once more, unable to keep them dry since the phone call yesterday.

Minutes ticked by like hours, the nervous mother pacing for part of the time and folding her hands. Peeking from the window at the sound of a vehicle she sighed with both relief and with frustration as it drove on past the home. The day was sunny and cool, the middle of December mild compared to the summer months, and a breeze ruffled the large American flag hanging from the side of the house.

Finally, a large blue Suburban mostly colored with rust spots pulled up and parked in front of the house, a young man in the driver's seat. Backing away from the window quickly her hands began to sweat and she walked in a wide circle in the foyer in an attempt to steel her emotions away and not burst into tears the moment she opened the door.

One knock happened several minutes later, followed by another. Emily was beginning to think that they'd changed their minds and driven away, but even with her preparation she jumped at the abrasive sound in the quiet house.

Reaching out slowly she gripped the knob, taking a deep breath, and pulling the door open.

"So…who was this Vaughn guy?"

The ride so far had been silent, Will driving Sydney to see another Marine's mother. _'This has to be connected to her injury, maybe it'll give me a little something for the hero piece I'm writing.'_

"Honestly? I didn't really know him. I met him in the morning, they were going on some operation, and things went bad. We flew out to assist and, well, that didn't go too well either. So he gave me his seat on the rescue chopper and that's the last thing I remember."

Her voice was quiet, her fingers twining back and forth on her lap atop her crisp and ironed green pants, the military outfit impressive to anyone that respected the servicemen and women. He left it at that, following the directions he'd printed out. They turned into a nice neighborhood, kids darting out of the street as Will slowly followed the paper until they pulled up in front of a two-story home with a magnificent garden out front. The flapping American flag hung out front, neat and clean showing the care that someone put into it.

"This…this is gonna be hard. Will…how do I tell a mother that she might not ever see her son again?" Tears pooled and spilled down her cheeks, her friend shaking his head with a sigh before reaching out and taking her hand in his.

"I dunno, Syd. You sure you just want me to wait out here?"

Wiping at her cheeks with her free hand she squeezed his with a sad smile, truly thankful for his offer of help. "Yeah just…help me out and I'll power through the rest of it. I just feel like I have to do this, you know?"

"Yeah, you're good people, Sydney Anne."

Jumping out and reaching into the back for the set of crutches he helped her out of the car and onto the sidewalk. "Seriously though, I'll be out here okay? Take your time, I've got my lap top and I'm supposed to be writing an article anyway."

"Thanks, Will. You're too good to me." Pressing a kiss to his cheek she took a deep breath and swung the crutches forward, the medals and adornments shining in the sunlight from their spot sewed into her jacket.

The bubble of mixed emotions sat both low and high in her stomach as she reached the front door, the deep red of the paint setting it apart from the bland white and brown doors of the other houses. _'Seriously, you don't need to keep memorizing patterns like colors of doors and numbers of windows,' _she mentally scolded, shaking her head and returning to the present. Another moment of hesitation passed before she realized she'd reached up and knocked once – then twice.

A shuffling of feet could be heard, though her hearing wasn't what it used to be since the explosion so it could have been her imagination. The doorknob wiggled a bit before it slowly opened, the scared face of the older woman with shoulder length white hair made her want to run and hide under the largest rock she could find.

"Are…are you Sydney?"

"Yes ma'am." Her voice sounded so tiny, almost child-like.

"Please come in."

After fetching the lemonade and deciding that their visit would be more comforting on the patio out back, Emily led the way. The wide hallways were perfect for the crutches and Sydney was thankful that there weren't any stairs on the way to the backyard.

Deciding at an attempt to break the ice, Sydney piped up. "You have a beautiful home," Emily turned with a small smile, thankful for the young woman's words.

"Thank you."

Arriving on the patio, a pitcher of lemonade waiting as well as a plate full of chocolate chocolate-chip cookies, Emily smiled at the scene. "Everything goes better with a batch of chocolate cookies, dearie."

Laughing as some of her nervousness washed away Sydney leaned down and sat in the closest chair before resting the crutches on the ground behind her.

"I couldn't help but notice the leg…I'm sorry." Pouring two glasses of lemonade and passing one over Emily sat across from the young Marine.

"It's taking some getting used to, that's for sure."

"I'm sorry if you find my questions forward, but all I ask for is your honesty." Sydney answered with a nod waiting for the worried mother to continue. "Is my son dead?"

The brunette's mouth opened and closed several times before she sighed and spat it out, "I don't know. I came here today to tell you about what I do know. It might not be the answers that you're looking for but…I owe it to Vaughn to tell you as much as I can."

Emily gripped the cloth napkin in her lap as tears welled in her eyes, Sydney waiting a moment to collect her thoughts.

"Your son saved my life, Mrs. Vaughn.

"I – I wouldn't be sitting here right now if he hadn't been on that mission. I was the medical officer on call for that day and Vaughn introduced himself to me the morning before they left. We honestly didn't think anything would go wrong you know? I mean, most of the guys had been there before on other tours...I'd been there twice before that."

She paused, taking a sip of lemonade and trying to figure out how deep she needed to go. The mission was by far not classified and Vaughn's mother needed to know the truth from someone that had been there, not from a file clerk in an office somewhere.

"But things went wrong. The mission went bad and Vaughn knew it. He radioed it in asking for permission to change it but Command wasn't going to bend. As far as how it started, I couldn't tell you. They called in saying they'd been ambushed and needed reinforcements and medivac and so we scrambled and got ready and left.

"From the sky it just looked like...ants. Ants fighting behind the smoke and the ruins. On the ground though, it was hectic. One vehicle had been hit and rolled and was blocking in the others so they were essentially trapped and fighting off the whole damn city. My team got on the ground and started helping and I didn't see Vaughn until he dragged one of his teammates over.

"We lost a soldier in the dirt - nothing we could do. Reinforcements showed up and we found out we were one chopper short so that meant that people would have to stay behind to wait for the next ride out - probably fifteen to twenty minutes away. Vaughn and I were going to stay and try to get the wounded or as many as possible back to base.

"We were teaming up on a stretcher when an RPG hit behind us. I - I remember lying on the ground with this ringing in my ears and not really knowing what had happened. His face appeared above me and I just remember things faintly but he said I'd be okay and that I had his seat on the chopper. After that...everything just goes black, I'm sorry I don't remember more.

"What I do remember though is waking up in London almost a week later and learning that he and the three other men that stayed behind weren't rescued when the chopper showed up. As of right now, Mrs. Vaughn, your son is missing. We don't know where, how, or any of the other helpful answers and I'm out now so I don't know how much I can do as a civilian."

Emily choked back sobs as her shoulders shook from the effort of holding her pain at bay.

"I'm sorry I...I wish I could have done more. Or that he was in my place, I really do."

The mother shook her head almost violently, reaching out across the table and grasping the younger woman's hand. "Don't you...you dare wish that! Michael w-wouldn't want his gift to - to be wasted on regret."

They sat for what seemed like forever, Emily silently crying and Sydney holding her hand. Squeezing from time to time their eyes finally met and they shared a soft smile.

"I'm sorry to bring this to your door...but I knew he would have wanted me to tell you everything I could if I'd lived - so here I am."

"You're an angel, Sydney, truly. This...this will take time for me to bear. But - but we don't know he's dead."

"No one knows. He could be very much alive right now trying to make his way back to you."

The thought sent a wave of calm over Emily and she couldn't help but sigh while tilting her head back to look up at the sky beyond the overhang, clouds looming in the distance with a hint of rain.

"Michael and I would lay out in the grass there and make shapes out of the clouds. Michael...never knew his father. Bill passed away in Vietnam shortly after the war ended and a few months before Michael was born."

"I'm sorry."

"Nah, his death I eventually moved past. I just remember catching my little boy up in the office one day wearing his father's hat and jacket, his bright green eyes shining and his fingers gripping the medals and pins. He was destined for the military from that moment on."

"I did much the same, though my father was in the Navy. We don't...speak much. Well...not at all really, not since my mom died ten years back."

Emily crooned and patted Sydney's hand, glancing at the watch on her wrist and declaring it dinner time. "Would you like to stay for dinner, Sydney? I'd be happy to have you."

"I really shouldn't, I left my ride sitting in the car out front."

"Oh my goodness! We've been here for nearly two hours, dear!"

Sydney laughed waving her off, "don't worry, it'll just force him to finish the article he was probably supposed to have finished yesterday. He's a reporter for the Tribune, and a lazy one at that."

Struggling to get out of the low chair, Emily stood and moved to fetch her crutches. "Thank you for coming and speaking with me, Sydney. You really have no idea what it means to me to hear this news from a person and not from a letter."

Making their way to the front door they stopped and Sydney was surprised when she was engulfed in a large warm hug.

"Can we stay in contact?"

Smiling at the hopeful look on the torn mother's face, Sydney nodded. "Of course. All my information is written down on this piece of paper. And I'll gladly take a rain check on the dinner if you'll still offer it."

"You're an angel for coming here and much more brave than I. My son may have given his life to save yours...I'm happy to share in his sacrifice by just knowing you." Her voice quavered and saline drops coursed down well-defined paths along her cheekbones. "Let me walk you out to the car."

In the vehicle Will jumped and turned off the small recording device before pocketing it, pretending to be surprised as he spotted them heading toward the vehicle. Guilt laced his soul as he put on a smile and hopped out of the car.

"Young man, you didn't have to hide in the car. You're more than welcome next time to use my office upstairs if you're going to accompany Sydney next time. Or you can join us."

Saying their goodbyes they pulled away, Emily waving sadly behind them before walking over to the mailbox with sad, downtrodden strides. Finding only a single tattered letter inside sobs rose to her throat as her watery vision blurred out the word 'Mom' followed by her address.

A/N: As some would say, "this is the start of a beeeautiful friendship! And what was Will up to? Hmmmm. You know me, have to give you at least ONE cliffie every other chapter. It's required.

Let me know what you think!

-Jeanie


	7. Chapter 7: Memories

Chapter 7: Memories

"Tell me about your relationship with your father," the psychiatrist said slowly, her glasses low on her nose as she peered up from her notepad. "I understand that he too is in the armed forces and has been since you were a child."

Sydney mentally rolled her eyes as she forced out a nod and a smile. "Yeah…he's been in the Navy since I was a kid."

"That must have been hard, Sydney; growing up with a father in the military."

The young woman shrugged as she avoided the gaze of the doctor, averting her eyes to focus on straightening the crease of her dress blue pants.

"He wasn't around a lot, but he was serving his country. I didn't understand that as a kid but I get it now."

A silence passed for a moment, the scratching of the psychiatrists' pen against the yellow pad like the grinding of nails on a chalkboard.

"When is the last time you talked with your father?"

"Before I left for Iraq."

Scratch, scratch.

"You two don't seem to be on speaking terms."

"I have a question." Interrupting Sydney finally looked up from her lap. "I thought I was here to talk about my _trauma in the line of duty_."

"I'd like to know a little bit about you first…if that's okay. I don't want to just jump into the lake without knowing how to swim." The older woman sighed, tossing the notepad on the coffee table and removing her glasses. "Let's cut the bullshit, okay, Sydney? You're stuck here with me – and though I've read up on your military record, quite impressive I might add, there are things that I personally would like to discuss with you before we get to the Iraq situation. Is that okay with you?"

"I don't think I have much of a choice. Part of my disability approval requires therapy."

"Good. So…tell me about your dad. Was there ever a time where you weren't disappointed by his marriage to the military?"

Sydney frowned as her eyes once again fixated on her lap. The frown faded as she slowly nodded, "there…there is one memory I have from when I was a kid. When I was ten-years old I was on the local area soccer team and we'd made the championships. I remember being so upset that my dad wasn't going to be there. I mean…I knew he was overseas but I didn't know that meant he couldn't come back whenever he wanted to, you know? So it was the championship game and we're tied up one to one, and…and I was in goal. This big black car rolled up and he stepped out and I just…I just ran to him. They scored and we lost the game, but I didn't care I was just…just glad to see my daddy. But…that was when I was ten. Things changed when I enlisted and then got worse when my mom died."

"Well, that was good for today. Next week?"

Sydney nodded as she hobbled to her feet, the doctor grabbing the crutches and handing them over. "Thanks for sharing that with me, Sydney. We'll tackle the harder stuff when it comes, okay?"

"Thanks, Dr. Barnett."

Maneuvering down the hallways, getting pretty good on the crutches after three weeks, Sydney pushed the swinging door open and re-entered the lobby. Emily smiled and shoved her book into her large purse before standing up and pulling the surprised young woman into a warm hug.

"I'm proud of you, Sydney."

Laughing, she brushed the compliment aside. "It was the first meeting; she basically asked me what my name was and about my relationship with my dad. Typical shrink."

"Well…baby steps, dearie, baby steps. You have to crawl before you can walk."

The bright sun nearly blinded them both as they loaded up into the car and drove out of the lot. "How about some lunch? It'll be on me," Sydney announced, "as a thanks for being my chauffer today."

"Oh, it was my pleasure, honey. I'd just be sitting at home thinking about Michael anyway, it's good to get out. What do you feel like eating?"

Settling on Thai food, the restaurant packed, Sydney gave Emily her order before picking a table against the wall to keep people from tripping over her crutches. She was almost getting used to the stares, though she wished it was less noticeable and that people were more subtle. She'd get the occasional man that would salute as he passed, some that would flash the U.S.M.C. emblem tattoo on their arm and give a wink.

This crowd was really no different though they went back to their meals as Emily arrived with the dishes in her hand. "Here you go, Pad Thai."

"I didn't realize how hungry I was," Sydney mumbled as the sprinkled the peanuts over the noodles and stirred it up before digging in. "This was truly the one thing that drove me crazy about Iraq. _No Pad Thai_."

They shared laughs and stories as lunch passed, a group of Marines walking in and sitting across from the pair. Sydney looked over, recognition dawning on her face.

"Weiss?"

The young man turned at the sound of his name, confused for a moment that someone outside of this group would know it, especially his last name. Upon seeing the woman across from him he whooped with a smile, tossing his napkin back on the table and leaping out of his seat which caused it to topple over onto the floor.

"Holy **shit**!" he shouted before jumping the small distance between the tables as she simultaneously hopped up and vaulted into his hug.

Emily couldn't help but smile as the other Marines just carried on with their conversation, apologizing to the folks around them as they righted the chair. "You know how Marines are," one said, eliciting a laugh from a group of college girls behind them, a waggle of the eyebrows making them whisper back and forth.

"Oh my god, you made it out!" Though her words were muffled against his jacket he nodded and pulled back, cupping her face and wiping at her tears.

"C'mon, you stitched me up…of course I made it out."

The young man excused himself from his party, pulling out an open seat and joining Sydney and Emily.

"I take it you're a friend of Sydney's?"

"Weiss, Eric Weiss. I was her chopper pilot for two tours. Woulda been three if I hadn't gotten shot down."

"Oh my goodness!"

"Yeah, that was a nasty one." He grinned, leaning back in his seat.

Sydney nodded with a laugh, "you don't have to tell me that, I was there."

"What happened?" Emily asked, concern mixing with curiosity in her eyes.

"God, Weiss, how long had we been there?"

"Four days."

"Four days in we get a call to resupply this outpost, so we fly out. As we're coming in an RPG hits the tail and we spin out of control. I gotta give him credit though; he set it down as easy as he could. I got lucky and ended up getting tossed out just before it hit the ground."

"That's _**lucky**_?"

Sydney waffled a bit realizing that they weren't talking to another Marine but a civilian who had no idea what it was like over there, aside from the stories on the news. "After the chopper hit the ground it spun on its side, the blades snapping and flying all over the place. So I'm about ten feet away trying to figure out what the hell just happened after eating more than a mouthful of dirt. I hightail it over to the chopper to see if everyone was…well…alive. Weiss was messed up to say the least."

She paused in her story telling as the memories of her dear friend injured in the dust flashed through her mind, as well as the other events that had unfolded that day.

"The door had bent in on impact shoving its way through my flight suit and into my stomach so yeah…I was pretty messed up. We had to call for another chopper which took about fifteen minutes, and until then Bristow kept me awake and wrapped me up while taking care of the other two medics and the co-pilot. All in all she was amazing; stabilizing a broken arm, a fractured hip and leg and my gaping stomach. Oh…and the broken back that Jackson, the co-pilot, had. All while taking out the terrorists and probably single handedly winning the war without anyone knowing."

Emily was stunned into silence as her mouth hung open. "Wow…that's incredible."

"If it wasn't for Bristow here, I wouldn't be alive."

"Yes you would…you're too stubborn to die."

"You're one to talk about being stubborn! A concussion and two broken ribs and _she's_ on the medical chopper with me the whole way back to base and insists on being the surgeon to patch me back together. I hear she punched a guy that wouldn't let her through."

"Damn right. You weren't helping either when you slapped anyone that touched you that wasn't me."

Weiss chuckled as he took a sip of Sydney's soda. "Well…you were always my favorite, Bristow."

"Yeah," she whispered poking at a left over piece of chicken on her plate.

They shared a moment of silence, Weiss wiggling his eyebrows. "Wanna see my scar?"

The women laughed and asked for a rain check, Sydney and Eric trading information before exchanging another hug and leaving the restaurant into the cooling afternoon.

"That was an amazing story, Sydney; you're lucky you survived. Both of you are."

Shrugging she placed the crutches into the backseat and climbed into the front. The beginning of the drive was quiet, Emily seeing that her passenger was lost in thought so she let her be.

"_Bristow, you'd better get your ass in gear! That sand storm's coming in, we gotta go!"_

"_You're as patient as ever, Weiss. You survived leave, eh? You get laid?"_

_Weiss grabbed the spare medical pack from her hands and tossed it into the chopper before pulling his friend in for a hug. "It's good to see you too, Syd. You ready for another fun-filled adventure in the Middle East?"_

"_Ha! 'Fun-filled'. Riiight," she sassed, hopping in along with two other medics carrying several crates of supplies._

_The desert below whipped past as a dust storm in the distance limited their vision to one or two kilometers. "Do we know what we're flying into and why we're doing it as a sandstorm blows in?"_

"_Just a supply drop, routine shit for you Mr. Pilot."_

"_Bitch," he growled over the headset as the crew laughed, the co-pilot punching him in the arm._

"_Be respectful! She's not only a girl but a higher ranked girl!"_

_A few minutes passed as they hovered a click away from the coordinates, the wind rocking the chopper as the town of tents sat in the distance. "Can you radio them to meet us here? With the wind and the dust I don't have a clue where the fucking landing zone is. They either meet us here or we crash into the tents and die."_

"_God, you're such a baby! Echo three, echo three, do you copy?"_

"_This is echo three, identify yourself, over."_

"_This is Medical Chopper one zero five four seven with your supply drop. We're about a click from the camp and need a Humvee rendezvous to drop off. The pilot says, and I quote, 'I'm a baby and can't see the landing zone', end quote."_

"_Ha ha, copy that. We'll get a team together. ETA ten minutes."_

_A few minutes went by before one of the medics moved in his seat and squinted against the blowing sand. "Hey…I think I see movement out there."_

"_C'mon Paxton, there's nothing out there but dirt and camels. There's no way any of our guys are here yet."_

"_No…I'm not fucking around. There's a group of guys out there."_

_Weiss rolled his eyes, keeping the chopper as level as he could. "Bullshit, the desert's messing with you. Get back in your seat."_

_Paxton watched as a flash of light illuminated the billowing dirt, an RPG careening toward the chopper. "RPG! RPG!"_

_It exploded into the tail taking most of it out as the helicopter began to spin out of control. "Fuck! We're going down! Hold on to something," Weiss yelled as the instruments on the panel beeped and blared, the medics in the back clinging to whatever they could find._

_Their close proximity to the ground meant that they didn't have far to fall, though the spinning made it difficult to flatten it out so it landed on its stomach. Fighting with the pedals as much as he could he flipped over to another channel on the radio. "This is medic chopper one zero five four seven going down in the dirt. Send heli rescue ASAP!"_

_The damaged tail hit the ground first stopping the rotation but causing it to jerk to the right before listing left, Sydney tossed from her seat and out the open door as in the commotion. The chopper landed hard on its left side, the blades slicing through the sand and snapping off before the engine stopped and everything lay still._

_The dust storm raged around her as she tried to gather her bearings. Her side throbbed, the medic bag slung over her shoulder not the softest thing to land on, and she was fairly sure that she had one if not more broken ribs from the fall. Her head felt as though it was stuffed with cotton, the ringing in her ears forced her to lie on her back for a moment to collect herself. Sitting as quickly as she could she shook her head to try and clear her doubling vision before rising and stumbling over to the chopper._

"_Weiss! Paxton!"_

_The chopper was lying to the left side, a broken prop holding it up at a slight angle, and she removed the medical bag from around her shoulder. "Incoming," she shouted before tossing it into the opening and moving to the co-pilots door. Yanking it open she noted that he was struggling against his harness with a grimace of pain written across his face._

"_Hold still, Jackson. Can you tell me where you're hurt?"_

"_My…my back feels weird."_

"_Okay. I need you to leave your harness on, okay? Don't release it, it'll hold you in till rescue gets here. If your back is broken you could paralyze yourself if you move. Understand?"_

_He nodded, his hands relaxing and going limp across his lap._

_Sydney stepped up into the open door and used that leverage to get onto the side of the chopper and into the large opening. Both medics were lying against the wall, sand blanketing the inside of the aircraft through the broken side windows, the wall now the floor due to the tilted angle. The supply boxes were still tied in the cargo net behind the seats and she pulled out the knife from her boot and sliced the fabric away to access the cases._

"_Bristow?"_

"_Hey, Paxton, how you doin'?"_

"_Fuck…I…I think my arm is broken." Attempting to sit up he clutched his right arm as it hung limply down at his side. _

_Maneuvering across to him she ordered, "hold on to your arm, okay?" As he complied she grabbed the front of his vest and hefted him up into something of a sitting position before letting him recline back against the wall. Returning to the crates she reached into the first and felt lucky that she found what she needed. Pulling out a sling, securing it around his arm and neck to keep it stable, she knelt in front of him._

"_Hey, look at me." Removing the small flashlight from her front pocket she clicked it, though it didn't turn on. The glass at the front was broken, the bulb as well, so she tossed it out of the side of the wreck in frustration. Snagging Paxton's from his pocket it clicked on and she shone it into his eyes. "You have a concussion so you need to stay awake, alright? Stay awake. If you feel yourself starting to fall asleep, I need you to start talking to me, okay?"_

"_Yeah yeah…I'm a medic too." A smile passed his lips and she couldn't help but grin before turning her attention to the other medic._

_The other young man lay on his side, unconscious in a crumpled position. "Hey, James? C'mon…James!" He didn't wake so she did a cursory check to make sure that she'd be able to move him into an upright position. Sitting him up he groaned as his eyes flew open in pain._

"_Good…good. I need you to tell me where it hurts, okay?" _

"_My…my hip. God…oh god it…it hurts!" His cries didn't go unheeded, Sydney figuring a broken upper leg or hip bone. Laying him back down he calmed a bit, Bristow flattening him out and putting a spare sling under his cheek to cushion his head. "Better?"_

"_Yeah…a little."_

"_Good. Sit tight, okay? Rescue's on its way." Checking his eyes she was surprised that he didn't have a concussion like both her and Paxton, so she let him pass out. _

"_Weiss?"_

_Climbing over the seats and into the front of the chopper she spotted him lying against the door, the broken glass scattered around his head and chest. "Weiss?"_

_He was unconscious so she clambered as quickly and carefully as she could in next to him. Undoing the harness he slumped farther down, a groan escaping his lips. "Weiss? Wake up." Slapping his cheek gently his eyes parted and he looking up at her. "Hey there, how you doin?"_

"_What…happened?"_

"_Well…you crashed the chopper," she mock scolded, leaning in to grab at the front of his vest. "Anything broken?"_

"_I didn't crash, I got shot down. Umm…my side feels weird, but probably because I landed on it."_

"_Can you sit up you think?"_

"_Yeah…I think. I'm really dizzy,"_

"_It's probably a concussion, I have one too. C'mon, Let's get you up a bit."_

_Hefting him towards her he groaned, the tightness of his side worsening. Looking down where he'd been lying he spotted blood. "Whoa, stop."_

"_What?"_

"_Blood, Syd…lots of blood. Lots…lots of my blood."_

"_Shit," she growled, climbing up to sit on the panel where she saw the jagged piece of the door as it jutted up towards the pilot, the red blood coating the side where he'd been lying. "Oh shit…"_

"_That bad, huh?"_

"_Umm…I…I can fix it, hang on."_

_Ignoring the throbbing of her side she vaulted herself back into the interior and began digging through the first crate. Voices from outside made her stop, relief coursing through her as she assumed the Humvees had arrived to find the chopper crashed in the dirt. Arabic wafted on the wind, Sydney freezing where she stood._

_They began yelling, two shots firing and causing her to jump. Paxton's eyes opened as she shushed him, reaching for the M-16 lying next to him in the sand and glass. They continued to shout, Jackson's voice echoing through the hollow interior._

"_Just…just wait…hang on," he begged, Sydney staying low though she heard the sound of jingling as they unbuckled his harness. Watching up front she saw him disappear as he was hauled out of the chopper. _

"_Shit!" Her hands shook terribly as she made sure the weapon was loaded, cocking it as quietly as she could. Crawling her way up to the front she peeked out of the open door as three insurgents armed with AK-47's, one carrying a reloaded RPG launcher, stood over the injured co-pilot ordering him to do what she assumed was sit up. _

"_I can't, okay? I can't get up, I can't move. NO move."_

_They removed his pistol from his hip and placed it in a pocket, shouting at him in Arabic. When he didn't comply they kicked him, his cry of pain making her wince. _

_Weiss whispered, "what the fuck is going on?"_

"_Shh, shut up. Don't say a thing."_

_Climbing out as best as she could, the M-16 at an awkward angle due to the constraints inside the cockpit she got to a position where she could aim it out the door. Fighting past the blurred and double vision and the pain from broken ribs, she aimed and pulled the trigger._

"Sydney? You okay?"

Emily's quiet voice jarred her from her memory, and she looked around her to see that they were parked in front of Will and Francie's apartment. "God, I'm sorry, Emily. I was just thinking about stuff, I didn't mean to be away for so long."

"It's okay, sweetheart. Look, why don't you come by on Saturday, we'll do lunch. I can pick you up if you need."

"Yeah…that sounds good. Thanks again for the ride, I really appreciate it."

They shared an awkward hug over the center console, Emily kissing her forehead as if she was a child. "Call me if you need, okay?"

"Okay," she promised, flashing a dimpled smile. Gathering her crutches she made her way up the walk and to the door, maneuvering the key and finally opening the door. Turning and waving Emily drove away, Sydney walking into the air-conditioned living room.

The house was quiet, Will still at work and Francie still at school, so she took the opportunity to retreat to her bedroom and flop on her back on the padded blankets of her bed.

She could still hear the ear-rattling shots of the M-16 as it reverberated through the cockpit and she couldn't help but see the jerking motion of the Iraqi men as they were hit by her barrage, the sand beginning to cover them after their bodies fell to the ground.

_Staying quiet she waited a moment, the men lying in the sand as Jackson moved about, attempting to crawl back toward the chopper. Looping the shoulder strap around her neck she climbed up and out, landing with a groan and falling into the sand. Crawling over to Jackson she lowered the visor from his helmet over his eyes to keep the sand from getting in, putting a hand to his chest to let him know that he was okay._

_He panicked and began throwing him arms about the second he felt someone touching him. "Whoa! Jackson, it's me; it's Bristow. Stop!"_

_He calmed a bit, opening his eyes to see her kneeling over him. She stood and wrapped her arms under his armpits, hooking her hands over his chest, and began to drag him back over to the chopper. "I'm going to lay you here, okay? I don't want to move you any more than you've already been moved, so keep that visor over your eyes so the sand stays out. Can I get you anything?"_

"_Thank you, Bristow. You…you saved my ass."_

_Squeezing his hand she reached down to her side and pulled out her pistol, placing it in his hand. "Use this if you need it, okay?"_

_He nodded and she climbed back into the chopper, looking down at Weiss. He was deathly pale and had his eyes closed as he rested his head against the sand and broken glass. "Eric? You still with me?"_

"_Sure," he wheezed, Sydney taking it as a good sign that he was awake, even if it was barely awake._

_Moving into the back she reassured Paxton as he sat with his pistol in his hand. "You keep watch, okay? If anyone tries to get in that isn't a Marine, you shoot 'em. Understood?"_

"_Okay." His teeth were chattering from what she assumed was shock and likely rattled nerves from the shooting that had happened, but this allowed him to focus on something to keep him awake._

_The gauze wasn't in the first case, Sydney growling as she picked it up and threw it out into the sand, aiming for the rear of the chopper so it wouldn't land on Jackson outside. Diving into the second crate she grabbed as much as she could get her hands on, lifting the medic bag back up and wrapping it around with the M-16 she filled it to the brim._

"_You know…we're gonna have to make a second supply drop," Paxton grumbled, his frank words making her stop for a moment. A grin crossed her face and she couldn't contain the laugh that bubbled up. _

"_It'd be just our luck, wouldn't it?"_

_He laughed along with her, Sydney patting the top of his helmet as she climbed back up into the front. Peering out at the insurgents she noted that they were right where she'd left them so she turned her attention back to Weiss._

"_Hey…let's get you wrapped up."_

"_Sounds fun," he whispered, his voice barely audible, and she grabbed her surgical scissors from her vest and began to cut away his flight suit around the tear that the jagged metal had made. Getting down to the wound she stopped, watching the blood pulse out slowly, and sighed._

"_Fun indeed," she grumbled, grabbing a roll of gauze and cutting it into long strips before bundling them together. "Okay, I need to put some gauze straight into the wound, okay? I'm going to try and pack it before I wrap it. It's gonna suck, but you can't move okay? You can't move, and I can't hold you down."_

_Weiss groaned, "hooray" sarcastically before nodding that he understood, Sydney's hands gentle as they could be. He moaned and thrashed his head back and forth, the medic pausing for a minute to whip her belt off and shove it into his mouth to give him something to bite down on._

"_Alrighty…all packed. You're gonna be fine, Weiss, I promise, okay?"_

_Spitting out the belt he brought one hand up to wipe at the tears that had fallen. "What did you say?"_

"_I said you're gonna be fine."_

"_You…aww shit. I'm…I'm gonna die aren't I?"_

_She couldn't help the tears that filled her eyes as he fixed his frightened brown gaze on her face. "Oh, honey, you're not gonna die. You're too stubborn to die."_

_Wrapping as she talked quietly to him, she used six out of the eight rolls of gauze around his middle. It wouldn't hold for long, but hopefully just long enough. _

"_Bristow! Hey!" Jackson shouted from outside, Sydney squeezing Weiss' shoulder as she peered out the open door._

"_What?" _

"_Lights," he pointed tiredly ahead, three Humvees rolling up as the ground shook around them. A second Blackhawk began its descent a couple dozen feet away throwing the sand around even more than before. _

"_Weiss, the chopper's here, okay? We'll get you back and I'll sew up you, I promise. Paxton…Paxton don't shoot, they're friendlies, okay?"_

"_Okay," he shouted back, his pistol falling to his side as he relaxed against the wall. _

_Sydney climbed out as best as she could, opting to fall to the sand below than try and make a decent landing. Feeling hands help her up she stood and saw another team loading up Jackson onto a stretcher. "He's likely got a broken back or fractured vertebrae, be gentle with him. We've got the pilot inside, hurt pretty bad, the door sliced his side open. I've got the wound packed but we'll have to get him into surgery quick. Two medics in the back have a broken hip or leg, and a broken arm."_

"_Shit…you did this all yourself?"_

"_I'm a Marine…it's what I'm supposed to do," she answered, the group putting a bottle of water in her hand and leaving to get the wounded out of the crash site. Sliding down with her back against the metal she sat in the blowing sand at the front of the wreck until she was loaded into the Blackhawk along with Weiss._

"Hey Syd? You home?" Will's voice echoed through the house, her reply bringing him back into her room. "How was therapy."

She shrugged and stayed on her back as she studied the ceiling. "I…I killed people over there, Will. Three people."

He leaned on the doorframe and looked over at her with sympathetic eyes. "Did you save anyone?"

"Over fifty civilians and soldiers."

"Then it was worth it."

A/N: We'll stop there I suppose. WHEE! Plenty of stuff to talk about in therapy, eh? Anywho, let me know what you think!

-Jeanie


	8. Chapter 8: The Passage of Time

**Chapter 8: The Passage of Time**

"Syd, you're sure you're okay?"

"Will, it's an automatic. All I need is my one foot, and it's the right foot. I'll be fine."

Will slid the food into the backseat before walking over to the driver side window. "Can I have the keys please?"

"I just want to make sure you'll be safe."

"C'mon, dad, give me the keys. I've spent the last five years of my life jumping out of helicopters, the three years before that learning _how_ to jump out of said helicopters. I think I can drive a damn car." Her dimples swayed him, Sydney leaning up and pressing a kiss to his cheek before turning the key and roaring the engine. "Listen to that…purrs like a kitten."

"It should, it's brand new. It's a brand new Mustang for my one-legged warrior."

"Yes, it's _my_ brand Mustang that you've kept me from driving for the last week."

"Okay, whatever. Have a good time, okay? Tell Emily I say hi! Don't go crazy in that thing, Syd."

She waved as she pulled away from the curb, passing her old Bronco as it sat with a for sale sign in the back and side windows. The vehicle being a manual transmission was impossible for her to drive, at least until she got her prosthetic, so a new car was in order. And since the Military was paying, she went all out and got herself a cherry red Mustang with black leather interior.

Cranking the stereo she jumped onto the highway, her foot hitting the gas as the sports car took off. "God it feels good to drive again," she mumbled to herself, plugging in her MP3 player and turning on some classic driving music.

Killing the volume as she pulled into Emily's neighborhood, she parked on the driveway and looked at the sea of cars lining the street. _'Good god, she said people would be here, but I didn't think that many people,'_ she thought, a tapping on the window making her jump as Emily laughed behind the tinted glass.

Opening the door and getting herself out awkwardly she spotted the mother with her hands on her hips and a stern look on her face. "What?"

"A Mustang?"

She just laughed and leaned against the beautiful car. "C'mon, it was on the Corps. Damn right I got a Mustang. I've always wanted one of these things. Here, I brought deviled eggs and potato salad, courtesy of Francie."

Emily lifted the food into her arms as Sydney grabbed a single crutch from the back seat and followed her up to the house. "Exactly…how many people are here?"

"The usual," Emily said casually, a little too casually for Sydney's liking.

"You forget that I'm not actually in the family, Emily, I don't know what the usual means."

"Oh, you're in the family now, dearie."

They opened the door and stepped inside, a sea of noises from the living room making her turn to see the younger members of the family jumping around and playing games. Making their way to the kitchen was difficult, Sydney having to work around scampering children and chatting adults. The kitchen was equally as full as nearly half a dozen women stood cooking, mashing, and kneading. The back patio was filled with people as well, Sydney dutifully following Emily through to the backyard where she set out the finger foods.

"Tony, come over here for a minute," Emily wrapped an arm around the unsure young woman's, an older man making his excuse and leaving a small cluster of people before jogging over to the two of them.

Sydney first noticed his striking green eyes and chiseled cheekbones, almost identical to Michael Vaughn's, from what she could remember. "You look just like Vaughn," she muttered, a blush rising up her cheeks.

"Well I should, that's my last name."

"Sydney, this is Tony. He's Bill brother and Michael's uncle. Tony, this is Sydney Bristow."

She held her hand out for a shake, surprised when he skipped the hand and pulled her into a hug. "You don't shake hands with family," he ordered, Sydney laughing as he broke the ice. "C'mon, let me introduce you around."

With that she was whisked away to meet and greet as many people as she could before lunch. Emily stumbled across her an hour later, the group of men and the single young woman laughing against the tree in the back edge of the yard.

"You're kidding me, Sydney, that's hilarious!"

"Nope. He was such an asshole before he got shot, and the wound was big enough, so I literally sewed the word 'asshat' into his backside. He didn't notice until a grunt spotted it in the showers and started busting his balls about it. I was told that I would've gotten written up about it if the commanding officer would have been able to stop laughing."

"What are you all up to?"

They straightened up, most of the men pulling the cigars from their mouths and trying in vain to hide them from the intruder. "Just…talking war stories, that's all."

"Well, it's lunch time, veterans. Let's go," she ordered, clapping her hands as Tony chanted "hut hut hut hut" and they marched off toward the huge table set up on the patio.

Grabbing plates, Tony stood at the head of the table before everyone dug in. "I'd like to give a toast, if I can," he paused, clearing his throat. "I just want to thank everyone for coming today for the annual Vaughn Family Christmas. Not everyone is able to join us this year, but…we're thankful for those that have made it down. I want to lift a glass to one special guest here…this young lady at the top of the table. For those that haven't met her yet, you're missing out, but this is Sydney and she and Michael served together in Iraq a few months ago. She's home now, and even though he isn't, he will be soon. Hoo-rah," he lifted the glass up, chants echoing across the patio from the large military family as they all dug in to their meals.

Sydney attempted to bat away tears as she glued her eyes to her plate, almost refusing to look up at the glances that the Vaughn family was giving her. She felt Emily's hand on her knee under the table, the woman merely eating her lunch while comforting the girl beside her.

The most interesting thing that Sydney noticed was that the Vaughn family didn't do presents, unlike most American families on Christmas. "We are the presents and the time we spend together once a year is just like opening a present. You get new stories and sometimes you get to meet new people," someone had explained to her, Sydney nodding in agreement.

Slowly as the evening progressed, many people left as long drives home kept them from staying any longer. Soon, Emily and Tony were the only two left, along with Sydney, as they stood in the kitchen doing dishes. Emily washed as the young Marine sat on the counter to dry before passing it off to Tony.

"Emily, why don't you go on to bed. Sydney and I can handle this, it's…it's a job for Marines."

The older woman laughed, seeing that Tony had been waiting all night to talk to the young woman without any prying eyes or ears. "Alright you two, but don't worry too much about the food. You can just put it in the fridge and we'll get to it tomorrow."

Pressing a kiss to Sydney's forehead, getting onto her tip toes to reach, Tony leaned down and accepted his own kiss on the cheek before watching her walk up the stairs.

"Okay, spill it. I…I want to know what the hell is happening with my nephew."

"I…I don't know. I've tried to get information from my father…but his secretary just sends me to his voice mail saying he's busy. I'm trying to get as much as I can…anything…we just don't have any information yet."

"Do you think he's dead?"

She paused for a moment, trying to distinguish what she thought from what she hoped. "I…I hope he isn't."

Tony nodded, knowing full well what that statement meant. "Look…I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be harsh, I'm just concerned, you know?"

"I know."

"I'm happy you're here, Sydney. Truly, I am. I'm happy that…that Michael's sacrifice, if he is dead, resulted in saving your life."

"I'm not," she muttered, finally loosing the truth with a huge sigh. "I don't…I don't think it's fair that I'm here and he's not."

"Why not?"

"I'm not saying it to belittle what he did for me, I'll forever be grateful. But look. My family…is my dad. That's it. My mom's dead, my dad and I never speak; I don't have aunts, uncles, brothers or sisters…and Vaughn has this amazing family. He has _you_."

Tony leaned against the counter behind her with his hands crossed over his chest as he listened to the young Marine vent.

"I mean…what right do I have to be here with his family on Christmas when he's god knows where? Maybe even dead?"

"It's not whether or not you have the right, Sydney. Look, things happened the way they happened. You're here…Michael isn't. That's a fact that we all have to live with…you included. Sydney, we're very happy that you're here with us. For you to even contact us to tell us what you knew…it took balls. We don't blame you for anything. We'll welcome you with open arms whether or not you like it or agree with it."

"I just…it's strange, you know? Just…for what it's worth, I'm sorry. I'm sorry that he's not here."

"Me too."

The continued to wash dishes in silence, Sydney feeling remarkably better about everything after the brief ten minute chat with Michael's uncle. Feeling even better than when she talked to her therapist. Packing the food up and wiping down the counters, Tony packed up a few left overs for her to take home, despite her protests.

"C'mon, let me walk you out to your car."

Hobbling along on the crutch she pushed the button to unlock the doors, hearing a wolf-whistle from behind as Tony stopped and began to drool over the red Mustang. She couldn't help but giggle as she tossed her crutch into the backseat.

"You like?"

"Are you kidding?"

"I decided that after getting my leg blown off in the deserts of Iraq…I deserved it."

"Abso-fuckin-lutely." Putting the food in the back he helped her into the car, leaning in the window for a moment before she took off. "Look, Sydney, don't be a stranger, okay? You're in the family now and we want to make sure you're taken care of. If you need anything, you call."

"Thanks, Tony." Pressing a kiss to his cheek he stepped back and waved as she pulled out and made her way down the street, a feeling of peace washing over her for the first time since waking up in the hospital those many months ago.

A/N: OMG a chapter! I know…I suck. Busy busy busy life! Anywho, let me know if you're still alive.

-Jeanie


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